Gone Time, Gone
by EleanorKate
Summary: Chummy faces a test of her strengthening confidence in herself and her future by a face she never thought she would see NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"Now come here you little monster!" Trixie laughed, trying to keep her voice down as her charge for the afternoon ran hell for leather down the corridor, passing Sister Julienne, who had momentarily stepped from her office to stretch her legs. The Sister smiled indulgently at the pair, not concerned with the giggling child.

"Sorry Sister!" Trixie smiled, coming to a very speedy halt keeping an eye on Freddie who had stopped at the locked door in the garden realising his path was blocked. "He escaped from the sitting room!"

"Its quite alright" the Sister replied. "It's a joy to hear a child's laughter around Nonnatus, but I would be cautious though as Sister Evangelina has one of her heads and has gone for a nap".

"Chummy should be back soon, Sister" Trixie responded, knowing she needed to keep the boy quiet for a little while at least until he could be returned into his mother's care.

Sister Julienne sighed quietly. "I do feel so terrible having to ask her to come in just for a few hours in the afternoon on her day off but with everything that has been going on here recently…."

Trixie smiled and nodded. "I might take him up to the park to see the ducks" she said, as Freddie walked back towards her and took her hand. "Shall we go and see the ducks instead?" she asked. Chummy used to walk him for miles in his pram and the duck pond had always been one of his favourite places. If she remembered rightly it was the place he took his first steps on his own.

"'es please" he replied.

"Do you think you are well enough Nurse?" the Sister interjected, noting the Nurse still looked a little pale and those few pounds she had lost through illness had not started to go back on again yet.

"Oh yes Sister. I feel so much better today and the fresh air will do me no end of good". Trixie was the reason Chummy was in work on her day off. A nasty bout of the 'flu had kept her confined indoors between Nonnatus and the Vicarage but now, on the mend but still not well enough to see patients, she was on baby sitting duties for her friend. "I need to get back on my feet and fighting fit again!"

"Very well" Sister Julienne smiled. "Off to the ducks then!"

"Can we 'ave some bread for vem?"

Trixie smiled. Chummy's little boy with a full on first class East End accent. If Lady Browne were alive to see it she'd be spinning in her grave like a top.

"I do think we can find some stale bread somewhere" Sister Julienne said, taking his other hand. "Shall we all go and look in the kitchen?"

"Mum? You in?" Peter shouted as he stepped over the threshold to his parents' house, not immediately seeing her in a quick perusal of the small downstairs rooms. "Mum!?"

"Upstairs son!" he heard from somewhere above his head. "Stop yellin' like a navvy an' make us a cuppa an' I'll be down in a sec!"

He closed the front door behind him and headed towards the kitchen, greeting with the wagging tail of the family dog. "Hello mate" Peter said brushing his hand over the dog's head who proceeded to jump up and down scratching filthy paws all over his coat.

"Get down you!" he smiled, helping the dog on his way before he took his coat off and filled the kettle, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard. By the time the tea was made his mother had arrived in the kitchen, washing basket under her arm, landing it on the kitchen table with a sigh.

"Aahh!" she breathed. "A cuppa tea. Been gaspin' since I started all vat ironing!" She took the mug from her son. "No kids in ve 'ouse an' I still 'ave a mountain of ve stuff to get frew! I blames yer Dad!"

Peter smiled taking a sip from his own cup.

"So what do I owe ve pleasure ven?" his mother asked as they sat down, temporarily forgetting the ironing as she pushed the basket aside to make space so they could sit in peace.

"I came to ask a favour" he said, knowing his mother in all likelyhood would agree to his request. "Do you mind if you have Fred overnight on Friday?"

"You know you an' Camilla don' 'ave to ask" his mother replied, happy to have Freddie over any time they liked. "Any reason in particular?" she asked, curious, still so very pleased that the two were happy in each other and themselves.

There was a very good reason Peter felt. "There's a film on we've wanted to see for an age and I am off on Friday and she is owed an afternoon so I thought I might surprise her and have dinner somewhere first and then go to the pictures" he explained, looking forward to those few hours where they would hopefully be unencumbered by shifts.

"Vat's luvly an' of course you can leave ve boy wiv me an' your Dad" Irene replied. "Come an' get 'im whenevver you both are ready on Saturday. You know I always keep a bed made up for 'im".

"Thanks Mum" Peter replied, grateful as ever for his mother's seemingly endless understanding and space under her roof for her only grandson to date.

"So 'ows work?" Irene asked. She had not seen her son in over a week and whilst for some that might be no time at all, she was more used to seeing him day in day out, even if it was five minutes passing in the market or over for a quick cup of tea.

"Oh, still there!" Peter joked. "Can't seem to shake these nights shifts!" That was the reason he wanted them to go out on Friday to spend a few precious hours together before life took over again.

"Do you still 'ave to go up to Burdett Road on your rounds?" Irene asked seeing her son shake his head in response.

"Not any more. Why?" he questioned, thankful that he hadn't had that road on his beat for a while as it was nothing but half demolished buildings and kids climbing the piles of rubble and inevitably relying on Police Officers when they had climbed too high and realised they could not get down. Either that or the Police were picking kids up when they were throwing bricks and other ephemera at windows and each other and more often that not at the Police themselves.

"Oh I was just up vere ve ovverday" she said. "Went to see Rose Robinson. 'er Thomas' wife 'as just 'ad 'er first grand-daughter an' jus' went to say 'ello to vem all" she concluded.

"Was she okay?" he asked, remembering the Robinson family and Tommy who had been the year below him in school when the Robinsons' lived over in Bow.

"Oh yes. Full of ve joys of spring". Irene paused for a moment, wondering whether to mention what she thought she saw on her trip. It was only a glance but it was enough to set her mind whirring and wondering. Perhaps she would leave it just this once; perhaps he didn't need to know. After all the past was the past and there was so much to look forward to now in the future that yes, just this time he might not need to know. "Its jus' its changed so much up vere an' I knew you you used to 'ave to go up vere" she finished, hoping it sounded natural. "I was jus' wonderin' vats all".

Peter smiled at his mother. "Camilla alright? I ain't seen her for a while" she asked, deliberately diverting onto what, with Freddie, was her son's favourite subject.

"She's fine Mum" he responded. "Perfect".

Away at Nonnatus, the subject of the visit to grandma, Freddie, was so engrossed in his colouring books fresh from his trip to the ducks that he didn't notice Fred Senior sit in front of him across the kitchen table.

"Vat's a rarver nice picture vere young Fred" the older man noted; the paper filled with bright colours and the crayons stacked haphazardly to one side.

"I got a cat an' a tree an' ve sky is goin' to be blue" the boy replied proudly, "but ve pens naughty". Freddie picked up the blue crayon to show his companion and sure enough it was as blunt as you like. Naughty though? He certainly had a way with words just like his mother.

"I fink I can solve vat" Fred announced. "Come on" he said standing up, knowing precisely where he could find something to sharpen it with. "A trip to my shed is in order I fink".

Just away under the arch that led under the railway bridge, the figure stood. Now the shopkeeper had said Nonnatus had moved to_ somewhere_ around here but could she find this place? Fifteen, almost sixteen years ago now, and she could have walked around here blindfolded and still found the location precisely.

Stepping a pace or two closer to the arch a small figure, a child who must have been about three or four with fair hair flying in the breeze, shot past her and she almost knocked into him; or him into her.

"Sorry sweetheart" the older gentleman trying to run after him breathed. "Little 'uns a wild 'un!"

"That's alright" the woman replied. Granddad looking after his grandson. How sweet. "I don't suppose you could direct me to Nonnatus House? I was told it was around here but I have completely lost my bearings!"

"Of course pet" Fred replied, looking ahead to Freddie, who was running around the yard in circles. "Its just vat very one vere" he replied, pointing through the railway arch at the large building directly ahead of him. "Jus' ring ve bell an' one of ve Sisters or ve Nurses will let you in".

"Thank you" she smiled, stepping of the the pavement towards her destination.

"Pleasure" Fred replied. "Come on Freddie!" he had to yell. "Shed's vis way!"

What Fred did not notice was that the woman didn't enter Nonnatus or indeed ring the bell to summon one of its occupants. She merely stood examining the brickwork, eyes wandering over its facade from ground to roof and back again.

"Perhaps another day" she thought as she turned and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

The darkness of the cinema closed in as music piped its way around them and for a second Chummy resisted shutting her eyes and succumbing to the weariness of her bones. The cinema was dead; barely another person there and they had had a very free choice of anywhere to sit.

With Peter's comment of _'are you sure you don't want to sit in the back row?'_ ringing in her ears she wished she had the nature to go along with the joke and sit there and not care. Instead she had taken him by the wrist and had chosen slap bang in the middle of the auditorium. Mind you it was that empty that you could have been up to anything anywhere and no-one would notice.

She truly was fighting falling asleep as the night wore on. It was warm; too warm and perhaps when they walked home in the cold it might wake her up a bit as she didn't want to cut their date short for any reason at all. She had also wanted to see this film though – Tom had taken Trixie and the latter had been told not to breath a word should it be spoiled – and as a consequence, she was determined to savour as much of the film and his company as she could.

By the time it was over, and the short sharp blast of cold air had greeted them both as they stepped outside, Chummy was shivering in only the way that true tiredness could bring.

"Are you sure you don't want to get the bus?" Peter asked, seeing the number 18 a good few hundred yards down the main road. It would drop them at the end of Broughton Terrace leaving not far to walk at all and he could see that she was flagging.

"No" Chummy replied, still madly determined that she would have every second of this night with him - in the cinema, on the trip home and strictly behind closed doors in peace. "I want to walk down by the canal like we used to".

"Alright. If you are sure" Peter responded taking her hand as they started to cross the street not convinced but happy to go with the flow of it all. "If we are after old times then how about a drink in The Arms as well?" he suggested, knowing it was not too far away.

Chummy smiled. She'd thrown her first dart, and sampled her first taste of beer, vodka _and_ cider, in The Arms. Not together though! "If I drink a single drop of alcohol now, I will be definitively 'on my back' as it where".

"Why do you think I asked?" he replied, affectionately shoving her.

"Peter!" she replied, looking quickly to find that no-one was listening. "You are far too cheeky!"

"I try" he responded casually.

As they walked, ducking down side streets and alleyways that Peter knew brought them on a short cut to the banks of the canal, Chummy wondered what Freddie was up to. Hopefully by now he would be tucked up in bed, but she also knew his grandparents indulged him too much and he was probably still wide awake and it would be her and Peter that would bear the consequences tomorrow.

"He will be fine you know Camilla". Peter knew that look in her eyes a mile off.

"I know" she replied, as they stepped towards the slow flowing water, "and I know he spends a lot of time with your parents and he will be perfectly fine...probably won't even care we're not there…"

Peter smiled. He had lost count of the times he had told her just those words and every time Freddie had been fine and entirely unscathed by his hours away from them. Most of the time he would start asking when he could go back and stay another night with Nanna and Grandad as soon as he left their house and Chummy or Peter would have to put him off so his aging parents could have a break.

"Shall we sit down?" Peter asked, pulling her along, the bench where he had first kissed her was just a few yards further up and it seemed the perfect spot to rest.

She smiled and nodded and they sat hand in hand, just for a moment watching the moon light twinkle its way across the water. If this was the South coast or perhaps the Seine if they were lucky, it might have been more romantic than the local canal but Chummy found that she did not care a jot. This place held only good memories and she had learned in the past few years that romance could be conjured up whether you were sitting freezing by a canal, tucked up in bed, or sitting with the radio blathering away in the background. She had resolved that all you needed was the thought in your mind and you could create wonders with it.

"Do you know I can't believe its been nearly six years since we first walked along here" she noted.

"And I have relished every second" Peter replied, squeezing her hand.

"I never thought about it you know. What I'd be doing; whether I'd still want to be in Poplar any more" she responded quite candidly.

"But you do?" he asked, apprehension very evident in his expression. That was the one insecurity that had always dogged him from the moment that they started to spend time together. She had spoken willingly of her wish to go to Sierra Leone and, not knowing his feelings or thoughts towards her at the time, she had readily offered up her plans to him. One thing he had always noted was how determined she seemed, how she truly lit up when she talked of her dreams that would be the place where her life would be. All he could do was hope she might love him the same way and that it might make her stay. On reflection though, to her, it had all been rather simple. He will never love me or want to marry me so, why not just share that not so secret with him?

"This is home now. In three years time I will be 40 so no, this is home now" she replied emphatically before halting. "Where did you think you would be when you were nearly 40?" she asked, having never actually asked the question of him before.

"I am where I want to be. My wife, my son, my job" he replied, more than happy with the way that life had unfolded these last few years.

"But when you were younger, where did you want your life to go?" she pressed, curious.

"I don't know". He genuinely didn't. The army came as a matter of whether he liked it or not and then there was job after job he couldn't settle at, losing interest after a few weeks whether it was the greengrocers or the paint shop, girls here and there that meant little except some pretty company for a few hours. He knew it made him sound shallow and that was not the real Peter Noakes underneath it all; rather than that life's occurrences had made him that way until he found the one thing that made it all shake away.

There had only been Jean and Enid that could have meant something but they were not a patch on Camilla by any means. "I'd just like to think all along that this is where I wanted to end up".

It did all seem right. "Are we going for that drink?" he said, not wanting to think of alternatives to life as it was.

"Five more minutes?" she asked, just listening to the quiet.

Five minutes extended into twenty until they made it to the pub. Finding a subdued corner they sat close and simply watched the world go by, talking of somethings and nothings, seeing several of Peter's colleagues mixing with a few of the local troublemakers all around them and they passed a pleasant hour.

"Just need to…." Peter said, nodding towards the gents toilet across the way as they decided after their promised drink to make their way home. On the bus.

"I'll wait outside" Chummy replied, before standing outside in the increasingly cold night air. Now she was cold, properly freezing cold, and there would be no arguments from her - she was not walking all the way back to Broughton Terrace. No Sir.

Chummy rubbed her arms. Even under dress, cardigan and coat she was feeling the chill again. Still breathing in the night she barely noticed the small group heading towards her. She just about registered it was two men and two women, talking and laughing happily; probably two couples on a night out so she let them pass by her as they continued to walk along, hearing just a snippet of their conversation. Behind her Peter appeared through the pub door and it shut loudly behind him.

"Ready?" he asked seeing her firmly nod, his attention only on her as they both turned away in the opposite direction from the group. "Come on then, missus. Homeward bound".

One of the woman stopped briefly and looked back, catching the voice and a glimpse of the back of the couple as they walked away, arm in arm and deep in conversation that she could not hear.

'No can't be' she thought to herself, seeing them speed up probably heading for the bus that was pulling up on the other side of the road.

'No, hearing things I am' she concluded and turned back, trotting the few paces she had lost in her moment of distraction back to her friends. The voice still lingered in her mind though as her night wore on and it burned slowly at her.

Had she heard right after all?


	3. Chapter 3

"Daddy?"

"Yes mate?" Peter asked as Freddie stood beside him in the hallway as he collected both his and his son's coats from the peg having received and happily taken up the rather surprise invitation for supper.

"Mummy's in work?" Freddie asked.

"Yes" Peter replied. "Working _all_ night and she will be home when you have your breakfast tomorrow morning".

"An' we're goin' to granmas?" he questioned.

"We are".

"An' Freddie an' Daddy goin' to stay ve night?" he asked, Peter thinking it was strange he referred to himself in the third person. Still, he thought, he hasn't managed to pick up his mother's habit of referring to herself as 'one' so there was hope there.

"No not this time" Peter replied, handing the boy his coat.

"Okay" Freddie replied, as he pulled the garment on but leaving it undone. Peter knew the boy was just being lazy as he was more than capable of doing up those big buttons himself as he had seen him do it for Camilla many a time and he was very swift at _undoing_ them when it took his fancy or there were interesting things to explore.

"Buttons please Fred" Peter asked pulling his cap on, watching the boy negotiate the fiddly things this time with deep concentration and just about reluctantly achieving doing up his coat. Peter ruffled the boys hair. "Now that wasn't too difficult was it?"

"If I'm good" Freddie started as Peter opened the front door for them to walk into the darkening afternoon. "Can_ I_ stay wiv granma an' gandad tonight?"

"No not this time" Peter smiled as he closed the door behind them.

As they walked to his parents, away at Nonnatus the door bell jangled merrily. Her stomach suddenly flickered with the anxiety of the unknown, who this person was, what she was doing here and whilst she had as much confidence in herself that she could muster and it was certainly not bravado that had brought her here, the visitor was perhaps more overwhelmingly curious. The door creaked open.

"How may I help you dear?" Sister Monica Joan asked. No-one was near to answer the door and it may just have been that one terrified father or some desperate emergency so she took it upon herself to greet the stranger.

"Oh yes, sorry Sister!" the blonde replied, having been examining the facade of the building, not really seeing the elderly Nun before her. "I was looking for a Nurse Noakes".

"Nurse Noakes" Sister Monica Joan replied, just about placing the name. "Oh yes!" she replied, raising a finger as the image of the tall nurse slotted into place. "I do know of a Nurse Browne who I believe is also Nurse Noakes" she concluded.

"Might I come in and speak with her?"

"She is under this roof in circumstance that is normal" the Sister continued, "but I am afraid she has flown away, soared into the sky as a matter of fact" she said, eyes raising to the heavens.

"Sorry?" the visitor replied, now really quite confused.

"The Nurse you seek to assist you" Sister Monica Joan pressed. "She has flown away".

"Do you know when she might be back?" the blonde asked, deciding that the Sister must mean that her intended target was not currently at Nonnatus. Maybe she had left permanently though and she had missed her? Perhaps the word she had about Nurse Noakes' location was old and out of date and she simply could not tell one way or another if the Sister was anything to go by. She sighed, also conscious it was getting dark and as much as Poplar had once been her home, she did not seem to know it as well as before and she did not need to be standing sharing riddles with a Nun.

"Who knows when our young will return to the loving bosom of the family nest?" the Sister offered. "Now who were you looking for?"

"Nobody" she started, keeping the comment under her breath. "It's quite alright Sister. I will come back another day" she replied politely as the door slammed shut in her face.

It had annoyed her for days. Lingering, lurking in the back of her mind like that nightmare you could not shake from your shoulders. The walk, the face, the presence. It had to be her; frankly couldn't be anyone else going into that particular house and it troubled Irene Noakes immensely. Never mind her son, she had far too many memories that she did not care to savour about that once long forgotten time.

"Do I say anyfink Bill?" Irene had asked her husband as they lay in bed last night entirely unable to relax, unable to drift off to sleep, continually chewing the conundrum over in her mind as she had been most of the day already.

"Get ve boy round here tomorrow" Bill had said, never one to skirt around an issue. "I saw Camilla vis afternoon, jus' in passin' wiv Nurse Franklin and she mentioned she was on night calls tomorrow, so get ve boy an' Freddie round 'ere for supper while ve girl is workin' an' tell 'im".

Irene had sighed loudly. Tomorrow had come around far too quickly and here she was preparing his supper. She wanted to tell him so he knew but also wanted to protect him from the inevitable trouble that may just well flow from it. She knew then though even in the maelstrom of her mind that if she didn't tell him and he found out she knew, well that would be an entirely different ball game all together.

"It'll only cause 'ell if he finds out you know…" It was almost as though her husband had read her mind and even now standing by the stove, she could still feel his reassuring grip on her hand.

"I know vat" she had replied, the words ringing in her ears as she stirred the bubbling pot in front of her. "I jus' don' want to see vat look in 'is eyes again. Eiver vat or I might rip _'er_ eyes out afore 'e even sees 'er!"

"Reen…." Bill had warned her, knowing that in one of those days past, when he had first met her, Irene Jenkins had been a right firecracker in looks, personality (still was) but that temper! Now that he tried to avoid studiously.

"It's true!" she'd responded earnestly. "Ven she buggered off I honestly fought if I evver saw 'er again I'd do 'er some damage".

"Reen….are you absolutely sure it was 'er? If it wasn't your openin' up a can o'worms vat 'e will nevver forgive you for. Especially if it 'urts Camilla. You know 'ow 'e is about 'er".

"But I fink I am sure an' I 'ave to tell him don' I?"

Supper was over and Irene smiled as she saw her grandson fast asleep draped over his father as he sat on the single chair by the window. She passed Peter his cup of tea.

"So what do I owe the honour of being invited to supper?" Peter asked, hence the reason Freddie was now fast asleep, sleeping off his ham and vegetable casserole, topped off with a slice of home made chocolate cake.

Irene cleared her throat and sat opposite him.

"I er…." She paused, still not really wanting to have to raise this with her son but knowing she had to. "When I went up to see ve Robinsons ve ovver day…I er…fink I saw vat Jean girl gettin' off ve bus by Wager Street".

Peter's throat dried. "My Jean?" he stuttered seeing his mother solemnly nod her head. "No" he snapped. She wasn't 'his' Jean; she had not been 'his' Jean for far too many years. "You saw Jean Glover?"

"I recognised 'er I fink. Still got vat bleached blonde 'air an' scarlet red lipstick" Irene replied, seeing what she was sure was a moment of panic in her son's eyes.

"Was it definitely her Mum?"

His mother nodded. "I saw her face an' I fink it was 'er an' I fink she was goin' into number 2". That almost clinched the deal.

"That was where her grandmother lived", Peter noted, having spent some time at that particularly property himself in years gone past and remembering it perfectly. He took the news in quietly, feeling Fred shift in his sleep. The last thing expected or indeed wanted to come crashing back into his life was Jean Glover.

"Does Camilla know about 'er?" Irene asked, unsure how much his wife knew of the other woman he ever so nearly married.

"She knows some things" he replied, unconsciously moving Fred as close as possible not particularly wanting to reveal what he had and had not told his wife about his former fiancée. "Besides Camilla doesn't know what she looks like and vice versa" he offered, suddenly wondering if there might be a way out. How as Jean to know he was married and had a son? Its not like he kept in touch with her family and she had gone somewhere up north.

"Vat's not ve point son" his mother warned. "Vat girl is around an' you nevver know when she might need 'elp from Nonnatus so tell ve girl everyfink. I fink she needs to know it all".

Peter nodded once, digesting what his mother had told him. As much as he knew the security of their marriage was something that both could rest on, he also knew how insecure he could feel, let alone his wife.

It was dark now and as Peter and Freddie walked home, or rather that the latter was carried by the former as he was still far too sleepy, Peter digested the evening as it unfolded. "Freds?" Peter whispered as the boys eyes opened vaguely. "Want to sleep in Mummy's and my bed tonight?"

"'es" came a very dozy response as Peter fiddled in his pocket for the door key. "No baf" Fred also offered as he was placed standing on the floor so Peter could take off his coat and shoes.

"No, no bath tonight Freds. Just sleep for both of us" he concluded. Fred was about to drop but Peter was no sure he would be for a while to come.


	4. Chapter 4

He hadn't seen her this morning.

He and the boy were up, washed and dressed, one to nursery and the other work before Chummy made it past the front door thanks to Mrs Potter and young David, whose labour had decided to stall so sufficiently that the midwife's shift extended to two hours longer than expected. She had come home, and gone to bed, a little note from Freddie (with assistance from his father) saying he would see her this afternoon.

_'Sleep tight Mummy'_

She was so tired that the tears that fell at the spidery missive accompanied her upstairs and she tucked the note away in the memory box she had kept since school. Sleep soon took her though and the pillows welcomed her into oblivion without a second thought.

Away over at the Police Station, all was eerily and unnaturally quiet. The custody record was almost empty and Peter ran his eyes over the very short list of occupied cells, sighing as he did his mind wandering to Camilla and this situation that seemed to be developing unbidden. Still, he thought glancing at his watch, it's only a short shift and he would home around three; just enough time he hoped to tell her of his mother's news before she went off to work again or perhaps enough time to work out what he would be saying to her which seemed to be the more pressing issue.

His beat had been uneventful and with a cup of tea hidden under the custody desk Peter began to review the booking in forms for the sparse number of inhabited cells. There were a few familiar names as he scanned the list carefully memorising who was in each cell and as he leant down to pick up his mug of tea, he sent his pen skittering down on the tile floor catching his hand on a splinter protruding from the desk as he tried to grab the pen as it fell. He rolled his eyes as his own clumsiness, seeing the pink scratch across his skin and bent down to pick the pen up only to breath in a waft of a perfume he had not smelt in years as it assaulted him from above. Peter prayed he was wrong as he stood up swiftly.

"Excuse me" he started. "How can I…?" the words tailed off. So his mother was right after all. Peter hesitated before clearing his throat.

"Long time no see" his former fiancee piped up, Peter hoping his face was now expressionless at the sight before him.

"It is" he replied, seeing Jean shift slightly. He could still tell after all these years that she was clearly feeling awkward and quite frankly so she should be.

He coughed again. "Can I help you with anything?" It was a cold question; he knew it was, but this was not the time or the place to be having the kind of conversation that they clearly needed to have, but certainly on Peter's part he did not relish beginning.

Jean was actually quite shocked at how icy he was being. She knew that her presence might not necessarily be welcomed with open arms, and she had needed to top up on courage to even get herself over the steps of the Police Station, but she could feel the frozen tentacles emanating from him and this person seemed so far removed from the Peter she had once known.

"I" she began, tucking her blonde hair behind one ear. "I came down to visit Grandma and she mentioned she had seen you a few times out on the beat and I just thought.." she hesitated. "I just thought that we needed to speak to each other as its been so long".

"It _has_ been a long time" he said. "But we needed to speak to each other over fifteen years ago" he concluded tersely. "Now if you really don't mind unless you are on official business and have a crime to report I have work to do". He did not see the offended frown and should have known better. One thing he had perhaps forgotten was that her mood could alter like a click of the fingers.

"You've changed" she mused, watching his hand as he wrote neatly on the custody register.

"No I haven't" he replied, not raising his eyes, knowing he was being rude. "If you don't mind?"

"You have changed, Pete. You've gained a temper". Whether she was deliberately trying to provoke him was anyone's guess . He didn't bother replying and nobody had called him 'Pete' since he left the Army however many years ago it was.

"Your wife must have done that you to" Jean offered, wanting to get the rise of him all of a sudden; just to get some kind of _reaction_ to her presence - an emotion, an argument, _anything_. Peter finally raised his head at the mention of his precious wife.

"Camilla has done nothing whatsoever to me". The worst she had done was make him fall in love with her.

"Camilla?" she questioned.

"Yes". His face remained blank.

"I heard her name was Chummy. Thought it might be foreign or something" she replied.

"It's her nickname" he clarified, turning over a piece of paper. "I don't call her by it". Never had, never would in fact.

"Oh, so when do I get to meet her then?" she asked, not quite yet being prepared to tell him that she nearly already had or at least had intended to. He could see her fingers intertwined on the desk just at the top of his field of vision, garishly painted pink nails glinting away at him.

"Never?" He still kept his head down; the drunk and disorder-lies still sleeping it off in the cells were suddenly more of an occupation.

"Never?". It actually sounded as though her voice was purring. "I am one of your oldest friends and I can never meet your wife? Do you know who I found out you were married from? Rose Robinson. She said her grand-daughter was delivered by a Midwife Noakes and I asked few questions, particularly as I seem to remember that most of your family was down in Kent even in the old days so there weren't many Noakes around". She paused. "I have to say I didn't expect you to take up with some one like that".

Peter decided that silence was the best policy even though he wanted to ask her what she meant but that would mean getting embroiled in a discussion about Camilla and that door, to Jean, was closed. He didn't have much of a temper and the odd time that he and Camilla had a spat over the years it was short, sharp and forgotten in seconds but Jean was a sulker; he remembered that. Hours on end she would be silently seething at him even back when they were just friends as tiny kids if they argued about silly things.

"I popped up to Nonnatus, if that's what its called" she carried on. "I nearly went in last night except there was a mad Nun blocking my path".

"Sister Monica Joan" Peter replied.

"What?"

"Sister Monica Joan and she isn't mad. Just unwell". Even though she was actually as mad as a March hare, they were all too fond of her to hear anything remotely disparaging from someone who was in fact, a stranger. He was also trying not to rise about the comments about Camilla as someone being insulting about her was a sure fire way to upset him.

It's not like she never knew he had been engaged though. That was alright. He had even told her the former fiancee's name. That was alright too. But, them coming face to face? That was anything but alright. They were so different; looks, personality, demeanour, even down to the fact that one never wore make up and the other wouldn't be seen dead without it.

"Peter" she started, laying her hand on his to stop him writing. Her voice was quiet and sincere. "I know that I did some despicable things to you and I never apologised". She saw him open his mouth to reply.

"No, let me carry on" she said. "I did some despicable things and I was far too young to realise the hurt I caused. I should have been there for you as your fiancee and I wasn't. I do often wonder what we would have been up to now if we got married". The comment was genuine.

Peter shook his head, he could see the mood change again, yet now years on it rang like a bell. "Oh no you don't". She was the reason that he had, over the years, shut himself off from marriage and finding a wife for fear of repetition. Camilla Browne though was having none of it. "And leave Camilla out of it".

She huffed. "Well if you are not prepared to accept what I believed to be a heartfelt apology then I am afraid you have lost out".

With that, and without another word from him, she flounced out of the station. Peter sighed. Just a few more hours and he would be walking home and he could tell Camilla and she would understand and everything would be alright again.


	5. Chapter 5

As she stepped out into the street, his off hand manner still irked her. Just a little reaction, a start, something to think she still meant something to him and there was nothing. He couldn't even be angry with her and now, having done her maturing, it hit home just how vast the canyon was between them and how much she must have hurt him. The comment about temper was nothing of the kind as he had barely raised his voice, hardly showed any kind of emotion at all. She was sorry, genuinely, but those were the actions of an eighteen year old to try and provoke him not this thirty odd year old woman. Still, that temperament was rising to the surface again.

Just _something_, just a reaction that she still meant something to him and it wasn't over and done with. There was only one thing to do now and make him react. Make him notice her again as there were words unsaid.

The two girls sat around the table in the kitchen, the telephone quiet and for once there did not seem to be anything particularly pressing so a game of cards was on the agenda.

"Did you tell Peter you were called in early?" Cynthia asked, Chummy having to cover for Trixie who was still not wholly well and confined to the vicarage again.

"I left him a note and Fred is with Fred until teatime. One can't ask Trixie again. I think it was the trip out with Freddie the other day that did for her again!"

Cynthia smiled. "I think it was rather trying to rush around and get back to work that contributed too".

"Starting with out me there girls?!" Patsy teased interrupting them both as she walked into the kitchen, however the second she made herself comfortable and Cynthia picked up the playing cards, the door bell rang.

"Well that's me out of this game!" the red head muttered, getting back up as she was very much next on call. She had taken a handful of steps from the table when she heard someone open the door and a brief exchange of greeting.

"Or maybe not!" she replied, turning back, not seeing who was there.

"Anyone special?" Chummy asked seeing her sit down again.

"No damn idea!" Patsy replied. "I think Sister Julienne slipped in there before me!"

None of them could hear the conversation going on away down the hall and it was not until Sister Julienne arrived in the kitchen that anyone knew who was at the door.

"Visitor for you nurse", Sister Julienne said quietly, addressing Chummy.

"Oh! Thank you Sister" she replied, getting up wondering who on earth it could be. She certainly wasn't expecting anybody.

They walked a few paces and Chummy felt the Sister's hand rest on her arm. "I am afraid I do not know what her purpose is Nurse, only that she asked to speak to you privately". Chummy felt a nervous flutter. "She said that her name was Miss Glover".

Somehow Chummy's feet kept her walking alongside the Sister who left her at the doorway to the sitting room. The figure was facing away, examining an ornament on the fire place not seeing that she now had company. If there were two polar opposites they were now in the same room.

"Can I help you?" Chummy asked, trying to keep control of her vocal chords. She knew who 'Miss Glover' was, or at least she assumed that this was the same 'Miss Glover' that she had been told about quite some time ago now.

The woman spun around, Chummy immediately noticing the high heels, a deep dark maroon and the swing coat, also maroon, as it settled again by her sides. Then it happened. The look. The look she had seen so many times before and each time, each memory of those eyes wandering over her from head to foot, well it broke her heart once more.

The examination; the assessment and hesitant look up, look down as her appearance was taken in and digested. Oh how many times she had been subject to it and each and every incidence it chipped away at her. Her confidence had soared this last few years but that one glance transported her back to those desperate days of being almost traded. Chummy adopted the face that her mother had told her to put on when someone did that. Slightly down her nose and shoulders high but the trouble was it made her 6ft 2 inch frame seem even bigger.

"I was looking up an old friend. Peter Noakes? I was told his wife works here?" Jean asked.

"Yes that's correct I do work here" came the simple reply.

The look again and Chummy felt the tears springing to her eyes. Quickly she cleared her throat and blinked them away.

"You're Mrs Noakes?"

"Yes" Chummy replied again, about to walk forward but deciding against it. "How can I help you?"

"I erm..." Jean started, halting for a moment. It shamed her that the first thing she thought of was what on earth Peter saw in her. "I just wanted to meet you. Its been so many years since I saw Peter that I thought I would like to meet his wife. Grandma told me she could have sworn he had joined the Police but I haven't had the chance to take a trip up there yet". It was a premier lie as she knew exactly where she had just been. "Old times sake and all of that and I was just curious..."

Chummy nodded her head slightly; just the once. She knew enough that 'old times' were not ones that Peter certainly looked back on with any kind of glee but at least she hadn't been to see him yet so she could breathe easy for the time being. Chummy was not quite sure whether he would dive back under the shell that his mother told her he had created for himself all those years ago. "He is a Police Officer" she replied, clarifying seeing the blonde fiddling with the black buttons on her coat.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" Chummy asked, really not quite sure what she was meant to be saying in circumstances like this and she could feel the room turn. It seemed the polite thing to do. Lie back, think of England and drink tea.

"No" Jean replied. "No, thank you. I..I just wanted to meet you. He and I go back a long way and its just…interesting, how you see people when they grow up and the choices they make". Not that she actually given Peter the choice in matters all those years ago but she was quite flabbergasted that he would pick _her_ to be his wife.

Chummy nodded awkwardly. She knew enough to know enough about this person, and you do grow up and change as time marches on but, she truthfully had no idea what to say and encounter was short, awkward and swiftly brought to a close when the visitor decided that she suddenly had a pressing appointment elsewhere.

Closing the door behind her Chummy heard footsteps.

"Are you quite alright Nurse?" Sister Evangelina asked, having heard the bulk of the exchange as she transcribed the rota onto the board for tonight's calls, feeling altogether quite shocked at what seemed to be developing. She was also though feeling protective emotions arise.

"Sorry Sister" Chummy replied, spinning around. "Yes Sister, sorry Sister. All fine Sister, thank you. Tip top". The Sister nodded, not convinced at all.

Outside, Jean stood for a moment on the steps leading up to the front door and saw the grandfather with his grandson again.

"'Ello sweetheart" Fred said, recognising her from the other night, the boy holding tightly onto his hand. "See you found ve place after all!"

"Oh yes, thank you" she smiled, looking at the little boy who had his head down, kicking a stone around with the toe of his shoe.

"Say 'ello to ve nice lady you nearly knocked over ve ovver night Freddie" Fred said, squeezing the youngster's hand. The boy looked up, brown eyes wide.

"'ello".

"Hello Freddie" she smiled back as the boy went back to the stone. Fred tipped his cap to her and they walked further along to the other door to Nonnatus, Fred intending on delivering the boy back to the care of his mother as he had errands to run.

Jean took two steps away and stopped. The boy. He was the image of a photograph she had seen years ago – a black and white snapshot of two boys on a beach – sitting proud on Irene Noakes' mantelpiece. It hit her suddenly in the chest; this overwhelming sense of anxiety creeping over her skin as she looked again just to check that her eyes were not deceiving her. It was really was over and done with, wasn't it?

By the time she turned around the boy was gone.

"Who was that?" Cynthia asked, ready to deal out the deck of cards as Chummy took up her seat again, nerves jangling and desperate to stop her mind whirring.

"My husband's former fiancée!" Chummy replied, getting herself settled again.

Patsy frowned and couldn't stop was tripped from her mouth. "Peter nearly married _HER_?!"

"Seems so" Chummy replied, casually, taking a sip of her tea. She had clearly not been away too long as it was still piping hot.

"Did you know about her?" Cynthia asked, swallowing nervously, frowning as she went thinking it quite horrific if Chummy had no idea.

"Oh yes" Chummy replied quickly gesturing at Cynthia to continue dealing. "Well, I knew she existed". Her demeanour was light and airy and the two girls now recognised it easily as a sign of their friend's agitation and they were waiting for her to break down. Cynthia put the cards down instead knowing this was no time to be playing games; this was a time that their friend clearly needed support.

"Did Peter know she was coming to see you?" she asked.

"One would have hoped that he had told me if he did" Chummy replied, going to take up the cards herself.

"Maybe _he_ didn't know…" Cynthia offered,placing her hand on Chummy's to stop her.

"It's always possible" she responded, voice dimming as the moments passed.

"Did we hear right she _hadn't_ been up to the Police Station?" Patsy asked seeing Chummy acknowledge in the affirmative, now making it more than clear that they had in fact been listening in.

"Well at least he was honest about it that she existed" Patsy carried on. At least she hoped that there may be no crossed words or worse about that.

"He's always been honest to me" Chummy replied. She was not trying to be defensive but it certainly came out that way.

"I know he has darling" Patsy replied. "But we just wanted to make sure".

"Yes" Chummy responded quietly, knowing she needed the girls entirely and might need them even more in the days to come. "I know. And one is so very grateful to you all".


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Peter saw the note he cursed under his breath.

Just this once, why on earth couldn't she be at home? He was about to express his dissatisfaction with events again when he stopped himself. It had taken some adjusting with her at work but if he had prevented her, she would have been half the wife he now had. All of it aside, he needed her to be happy as it made him happy to see her so, even if he had to take a breath once in while just like now. The fact remained that he _needed_ to speak to her most urgently - the one time it was more important than ever - and she wasn't where she should have been.

_"Had to go in to cover. The baby is at Nonnatus with me". _ He did still wonder why she referred to Freddie as 'the baby' when he was almost four and a good inch or two taller than his counterparts at nursery. _"I love you"_. It always made him smile, dissolving any hurt away, when she said that particularly as it had been so hard for her to realise what precisely his love meant.

Just five minutes though to assure himself she was still there; not absent and it would allow him to smooth over the anxiety that was building in response to Jean's visit and finding her away from home when he needed her there the most. Still, he though as he put his coat back on, at least she hasn't been up to Nonnatus yet; perhaps Sister Monica Joan had done him an inadvertent favour in her demented state in barricading the way in. It would give him time.

Peter found Freddie, sitting on Patsy's knee on the floor of Nonnatus' dining room next to a roaring fire, head buried in a tattered copy of 'Janet and John' as she talked him through the words.

"I found it in the charity box" Patsy said, noticing Peter from their place on the floor. "Hope you don't mind me helping with his reading!"

Peter smiled, walking across to them both, Freddie not even registering his presence. "It's quite alright. More practice the better!"

"Freddie would you like to take the book home?" Patsy asked, looking down at the boy, not getting a flicker of a response to her question. "Freddie?"

"He gets like that" Peter said, crouching down next to them. "Fred?" he asked, putting his hand on his son's arm. "Auntie Patsy is talking to you".

The boys head shot up, still with tight hold of the book pretending to read. "Sorry Daddy. 'es please" he replied, directing the last two words up at Patsy who was looking over his shoulder.

"Does he always do that?" Patsy asked incredulously. "Make it look like he's not listening but know exactly what you said?"

"Frequently!"

Patsy smiled as the pair stood up. "Come on young man, lets go and get your coat".

"Is Camilla in?" Peter asked as they walked back along the corridor towards the pegs where he could see Fred's blue coat was hanging up, Fred holding tightly onto Patsy's hand still.

"You missed her by about ten minutes" Patsy replied as she took down the coat and her charge held out his arms to be dressed.

"Oh".

Patsy could actually hear the disappointment in his voice. She also knew, however of the visitor to Nonnatus and wondered if they had even had the chance to speak to each other about it, imagining how awful it must be to have a reminder like that of years gone past thrown unceremoniously in your face all of a sudden. "But she is only at Dr Turner's evening clinic and its always like a morgue on a Wednesday. I'm sure Dr T won't mind if you nip in".

With a smile from Peter and a kiss goodbye from Freddie, the former decided they would go up to the clinic; just for a few minutes to rest and be reassured even if it was out of their way.

It was only a ten minute diversion and Patsy was right. Apart from two people and four children, one of which he recognised as a playmate of Freddie's from nursery, it was indeed quite dead. Peter had partly dreaded walking down here as it brought back some very odd, disconcerting memories; his last recollection of going to one of the clinics when Fred was only six weeks old having to take him as Camilla was having a rotten, painful day in her recovery. He was looked at like he had purple skin and three heads as he pushed the pram in and took a seat next to a line of mothers. Thankfully Sister Evangelina had spotted him and skipped him up the queue; telling him this was no place for a man to be. Peter would freely admit that he didn't know whether he was relieved to be ticked off by the Sister or not.

Peter felt Fred's hand slip from his and saw the boy run across the room. Patrick turned around immediately feeling a pull at his white coat.

"Hello Freddie" he smiled, seeing Peter catching his son up. "My my you are getting taller by the day!"

''Ello Docker Turn" the boy replied, eyes wandering to the instruments the doctor had been carefully setting out in the absence of little else to do. Some of them looked extremely interesting indeed!

The two adults smiled. Dr Turner had been 'Docker Turn' ever since Freddie learnt his name and Patrick had no intentions of changing it. Angela had picked it up too as Freddie had become her protector at nursery and he was no longer Daddy but Docker. Shelagh would just laugh at the pair, particularly when Freddie came over to stay and it was all she heard.

"Is Camilla around?" Peter asked, seeing Fred wander off again towards the line of beds sticking his head through one of the curtains before anyone could call him back. It was a good job it was only his mother behind that curtain rearranging the sheets and not a half dressed patient.

"Just there!" Patrick smiled, nodding his head in Freddie's direction hearing Chummy exclaim in surprise at her son's sudden appearance. By the time Peter made it over to the other side of the room Freddie was sitting up on the bed, feet dangling over the side and in mid cuddle with his mother as she sat next to him.

Peter pulled the curtain back around himself so the space was enclosed privately for a while.

"One didn't expect visitors" Chummy smiled.

"I just thought we'd pop in on our way home to say hello" Peter said, quite glad it was quiet.

"Home is in the opposite direction" she pointed out.

"I know it is" Peter replied sitting down on the bed next to her tipping her chin so he could kiss her, holding on until she pulled away from him, forever conscious of other people and particularly Freddie who was actually taking no notice of his affectionate parents; more interested in the pinard that had been on the bed as he twirled it around like a baton.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly feeling Fred lean against her.

"No reason", he replied. "Just saying hello".

Chummy smiled. He could be daft as a brush sometimes but she wouldn't change it for the world.

"When are you likely to be home?" he asked, apprehensive and desperately wanting to shut the door on the house so they could talk or rather he could tell her about Jean. He knew nothing in his innocence that his wife was considering the same, although perhaps more nervous that it was even a subject that she should be bringing up.

"When clinic closes" she replied. "About half past seven".

"Good" Peter responded, before pausing. "I'll put him to bed".

Chummy shook her head. "He can wait an extra half an hour. I'd like us to do it together like we used to".

"Your wish; my command".

"Daddy" Fred announced as they walked along having left the clinic, stopping waiting to cross the road after a rather full bus rolled its way along past them.

"Yes?"

"There's vat lady" Freddie observed, watching the bus as it carried on towards the stop opposite the greengrocers on the other side of the road.

"What lady?" Peter asked, looking around seeing plenty of women around them but none that he recognised.

"On ve bus" Fred replied, pointing across the road. "Ve lady 'ere. At Mummy's work".

Peter thought perhaps it had been one of the patients back at the clinic but if it was she would have had to have made swift work of getting out of clinic and past them to the bus. Maybe it was a patient from a while back as it wasn't the first time that Fred had frequented a clinic or Nonnatus itself and he could have remembered any of them. "A visitor at Mummy's work?" he asked.

"Yes. Ve lady wiv yellow 'air".

"Yellow hair?" Peter asked, heart stopping for a moment feeling suspicious, perhaps far too conscious and it made him veer into paranoia. "Like Auntie Trixie's hair?"

"'es. When Granda Fred came me back" Freddie replied as they began to cross the road.

"Brought me back" Peter corrected, the bus now driving away, unable to see who might be on it. Jean hadn't been to Nonnatus, she had been turned away he knew for a fact. Or did he? She was the only 'yellow haired lady' that he knew of, but then again, Fred hadn't been anywhere near Nonnatus when she said she had been there. He had been there this afternoon though, just before Peter came off shift and right after the visit to the station. If she had been up to Nonnatus she had lied to him after all, or had she gone up after the Station trying to find Camilla and instead got Freddie?

It was no use asking Freddie when; he was too young to tell him and asking Fred Snr would only involve personal business being discussed. Perhaps the older man had no idea who she was anyway.

Peter sighed not wanting to think that she might know about their son. He knew that apart from his brown eyes, Freddie was the image of him as a child; frighteningly so according to Peter's mother, so for anyone that didn't know he may have been somewhat of a shock .

"Come on" Peter breathed, not wanting to think. "Lets go home and wait for Mummy".


	7. Chapter 7

Ever so gently Chummy closed the front door behind her, locking it; the early Spring evening closing in around her. The house felt eerie. It was that thing that she couldn't really place again that used to haunt her in the dormitory at school; that prickly cold feeling that gnawed on your skin when you got out of the warmth of the bath into the chill of the hallway as you ran shivering away.

Carefully she took off her gabardine wondering where on earth Freddie and Peter where. Quietly she could hear the radio in the kitchen and she walked through see them both. Peter was standing at the kettle in quiet contemplation and it whistled the moment she stepped into the kitchen, interrupting the thoughts that were running causing chaos in his mind. Freddie was busy colouring in, his artistic wares laid out on the table.

"Perfect timing" she whispered as Peter looked around and Freddie looked up before getting off his chair and holding up a very tired pair of arms so he could be picked up.

"Hello handsome" she breathed into his ear as he hugged her, perched on her hip. "Have you been good for Daddy?"

He nodded enthusiastically at her and Peter walked over to them both without a word, giving her a kiss reminiscent of the one in clinic. There was something in the air, both could feel it, as he withdrew.

"Do you want your tea now or when he's in bed?" he asked.

"When he's in bed" she sighed, holding the boy close wanting a few minutes with him even though he was clearly starting to flag, but she just needed to breathe in his anchoring presence; the one true unbreakable connection she had to Peter and nothing would sever it. Whilst neither realised the other was thinking the same way, both Peter and Chummy just wanted to be in each others company, this connection they had so deep and so desperately unexplainable. He cushioned her sometimes weary soul and it was almost strange; the appearance of this person all of a sudden could have the capacity to throw them away from each other, and it made Chummy particularly anxious that he would not suddenly up and go with old feelings being disturbed and rekindled no matter what he professed to say with his love for her.

Jean Glover was one of those girls that seemed to be composed and confident, she could tell that even from their brief meeting. Beautiful neat features and elegant with an air to carry it off. Chummy, as her mother kept repeatedly telling her, just blundered her way through and got it right only on those rare occasions when luck was on her side and not through any kind of design.

For Peter though, all he wanted was to show her that that was certainly not the case that he would shift from her side and never would, whoever his former fiancee now turned out to be.

"Thank you", Chummy said as she was passed her cup of tea as Peter went to sit on the opposite side of the kitchen table. They had put Freddie to bed in almost silence. Both of them could feel the apprehension and as he now reached across the table to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, she opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted.

"Camilla" he started. "I need to speak to you, but please, don't say anything just listen first". Chummy nodded dumbly seeing him take a heavy breath. "Lets go and sit in the front room" he said suddenly, the kitchen far too uncomfortable and sterile for this. The table was an unnecessary obstacle between them, sturdy in his path and it felt cavernous.

"Do you remember that I told you I was engaged?" he said as they sat side by side on the settee. Chummy nodded slightly, needing to hear this but so desperate at the same time at what he had to say for himself. She knew she had to face the truth though whatever it might be and whether she may get the unvarnished version. "She came to see me the other day and wanted to talk about old times". Chummy nodded again. That's all she seemed to be doing as her voice box was not intent on a word.

"She just turned up at the station" he concluded.

"When?" she squeaked.

"Yesterday" he replied quickly. "This is the first time we've been in one place for me to say anything and I…haven't deliberately kept it from you". She had no choice but to believe him.

"She came to see me too Peter" she said sadly, entirely unable to look him in the eye.

"When? She told me was turned away by Sister Monica Joan".

"Yesterday as well" Chummy replied, frowning. "Peter, when did you know she was back?" She was becoming more and more insecure by the second, told one thing by Peter and something else by his former love.

"Mum told me she was here" he replied hesitating but knowing she needed to know. "It was a few days ago".

"Oh" she breathed in response withdrawing her hands instinctively from his.

"I knew I had to tell you Camilla. I never thought she would have the audacity to try to find me though". He was examining her face from the side, trying to gauge her thoughts. "I was an eighteen year old child Camilla" he said unafraid to let her hear the desperation in his voice. "I thought I loved her, but I am now a thirty six year old man who knows what he wants".

He sighed, seeing her swallow nervously but still not say a word. "Every lad in the street was after Jean but she was my best friend and she'd agreed to marry me and I needed to think that I wasn't going off to get shot or blown to smithereens and I could have someone thinking about me at home".

"One thing I will give you credit for through. Your taste is eclectic" she said suddenly.

"Don't Camilla" he frowned, not wanting her to gloss over this with humour.

"No I mean it" she replied, finally turning to him. "Look at us. I've never seen two people so different".

"And I have told you before that there are million reasons why I needed you to be my wife and why I chose to ask". He reached across and turned her head, an inch away from kissing her until she turned her head away from him.

"Peter don't".

It wasn't a case that she was rejecting him; far from it but she did not trust herself not to cry, not to say something that would make him wonder about her and certainly not to express those thoughts that were running wild through her mind. One kiss and it would all tumble out as he could do that to her. Her head was vaguely above water but her legs and arms were kicking away as though she would be ripped away by the tide of her own fear.

"It's the only way I know how. Only you; nobody else". Physical affection was the only way he could tell her - show her - what she meant. Words were words, but the fact that he just wanted her said more to him as those words were sometimes cheaply said.

She turned over his hand, taking it from her cheek seeing the pink mark running over his skin. She had noticed it when he had passed her the cup of tea in the kitchen. "Did she scratch your hand?"

Peter shook his head.

"I've not got nails long enough to do it so I know it couldn't have been me" she said turning his hand back over again to cover the scratch as its presence suddenly seemed so offensive and she could actually feel jealousy rising.

"Camilla it wasn't her" he replied earnestly. "I caught myself on that damn custody desk when I dropped a pen". 'Damn' was the nearest he got to swearing around her. Chummy pursed her lips.

"It was a splinter on the desk Camilla" he clarified, as she felt his fingertips on her chin turning her to face him again. "Do you believe me?"

She breathed and nodded. "Sometimes I notice things and when I do one does so wish one didn't".

"Jean did not scratch me. She didn't touch me and I certainly have no desire to lay a finger on her". His voice was resolute although something suddenly hit him. "Yesterday? She saw you yesterday?"

"Yes…" she replied disconcerted.

"Fred saw her too…" he responded, as she saw a flash of panic in his eyes her head shooting up thinking he had been discussing their private business with Nonnatus' handyman

"Little Fred. _Our_ Fred" he clarified, seeing her skin turn pale. "He said he saw someone with yellow hair on the bus and I thought it was one of your patients, but he said she was at Nonnatus. I told her to leave you out of it. What did she say to you?" he asked realising now why she was so reluctant to engage.

"Not much" Chummy replied. "Considered me and left".

"Considered you?" It was such a strange phrase.

"Looked me up and down; clearly decided that I wasn't what she expected you to have married and left" she responded, feeling the temptation of tears as she recalled the eyes as they scanned up and down her like she was an exhibit or a statue to be studied and formed an opinion of or on. Feeling like a creature.

"I don't understand…."

"Have you never see people look at me like that Peter? Like…..like they are really not sure what they are seeing?" It was far too familiar for her having seen it so many times before.

"I only look at you" he replied simply. "And I know what I see".

Chummy shook her head and smiled, disbelieving him all of sudden. "You know nothing of how it feels to be seen to be inadequate for every single breath that you take. I'm tired" she said suddenly. "Its been a long day. I think…..I think I'd like to sleep".

They lay in bed side by side, slowly drifting off. She still felt odd; separated and as much as she wanted to believe every single word he had said, this woman still lurked in the back of her mind and although she was never one for shouting and screaming in argument - confrontation terrified her that much - but she could hardly breathe as the weight lay heavy on her chest.

He had to make her believe otherwise she might just drown.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you taking him out today?" Chummy asked quietly from across the breakfast table, referring to her son and the fact that Peter had a day off.

Peter nodded, putting down his teacup, ready to fill it up again. "I thought I might take him to the park if the weather stays and I was thinking of getting those weeds up from the yard. Might start sewing some of those peas and beans as well with him too". He had the day planned to the minute.

"I think I should be back about six" she said acknowledging his plans with a slow nod of her head. "I'm in clinic all day and won't be on call so I should be back in good time".

"Alright" he replied. The room was awkward; you could feel it chilling away at your bones.

"We'll save the lettuce and radish for the weekend so we can all do those together" Peter continued, trying to inject a little light into the physical and metaphorical grey morning.

She smiled, eyes still blank though even though she knew he was trying to bridge her self imposed gap. "I need to go otherwise Sister Evangelina will be wringing my neck". She took one quick mouthful of tea before she stood up only to find Peter standing up just as fast and firmly getting in her way.

"Camilla" he started, taking a pace forward, hands resting on her elbows. "How about we have fish and chips tonight? Fred and I can go and get them if you are going to be back dot on six?" He had intended to say something far more profound about the current situation they found themselves in but somehow a question about supper came out instead.

"Yes" she replied. "That will be nice". She still kissed him goodbye and picked up her coat before closing the front door behind her as he went back to ruminating over a pot of tea before Fred woke up.

Strolling through the park that afternoon Freddie had made a beeline for the swings; seeing one of his friends from nursery already there with his mother so Peter let him run on ahead, smiling at Daniel's mother as the two boys ran off together.

"Constable" she smiled, still of a generation where respect for the local Police Officer had not waned.

"Hello Mary" he replied as they sat down on a bench so they could keep an eye on the boys. "How's everything?"

"Oh" she responded with a shrug of the shoulders. "Ve usual. Kids drivin' me wild! I'm goin' to send our Jimmy in your direction one of vese days" she continued. "'e's decided 'e wants to join ve Police an' I'm 'opin' you could tell 'im all about it an' what 'e needs to do".

"How old is he now?" Peter asked, thinking he must be well into his teens by now.

"Fifteen" she replied, thinking of her eldest son suddenly shooting up in height. "Leavin' school soon so I wants 'im in a decent job; not down ve docks like 'is Dad an' grandad".

Peter smiled. "Of course. Send him down to the station tomorrow if you like? I'm on the desk so will have the chance to tell him everything he needs to know!"

"That'll be grand. I'll make sure 'e gets down vere first fing" she responded as they watched the boys run around, now shouting for each parent to push them on the swings, which Mum and Dad respectively both obliged as each of them between them just continued to shout 'higher! higher!' as the minutes went on. The adults continued in conversation with both boys hopefully exhausting themselves ahead of afternoon naps between the swings, slide, roundabout and swings again as the afternoon wore on.

Having decided that he was bored spinning on the roundabout, Fred was about to scramble up the ladder to the top of the slide again when a voice came from behind him.

"Hello Freddie!"

The boy spun around to see the yellow haired lady standing on the path that wound its way around the playground.

"'Ello" he replied, recognising her.

Jean walked across to him, fascinated by the boy, still under the assumption that Fred the elder was Chummy's father. The resemblance between Peter and Freddie was almost devastating though and she could see it even more now she could see the boy's face for more than a second. One of those days gone past she had wondered what their children might look like and here was the living proof of at least part of the equation.

"Are you here with your granddad?" Jean asked.

"No" Freddie replied as Jean cast her eye over the playground to see Peter in conversation, back to sitting on a bench with Daniel's mother. "Daddy today".

Peter had already noticed, however, that Jean was talking to his son and after excusing himself away from his company for a moment he shouted over.

"Fred! Come here!" Whatever Freddie heard in his father's voice it caused him to fly away towards him taking no further notice of the stranger before him. Jean's head shot up too, seeing Peter walking across the playground to them.

"Go and sit with Mary for moment" Peter asked his son who trotted off after being guided in that direction by his father's hands on his head.

"Pete if you believe noting else, I didn't even think I would see you today. I just came for a walk" Jean said quickly wanting to get in there before he could say something. "I just saw him and thought I would say hello".

He nodded having no choice but to take her word for it. Rationality told him it was far too random a meeting place to have been anything more than a co-incidence so logically, it was the only way to go although he certainly took exception to her approaching his son that way.

"I do still think we need to talk to each other though. Nothing's changed" she said, keeping her voice low as other children ran around the playground.

Peter breathed, seeing the solemn look on her face knowing it had to come at some point. "Very well".

They sat; Peter keeping what was more than a polite distance away from her on a nearby bench as Freddie and Daniel continued to run around without a care in the world. The last thing he needed was gossip, particularly as most of the adults in this playground knew their local constable.

"Are you going to tell your wife you spoke to me?" she asked, messing with the strap on her handbag as it lay on her knee still wondering about this person Camilla or Chummy or whoever she was; how he came to meet her and yes, still, what on earth he saw in her.

"Why would I not tell her?" Peter inquired, forehead creasing.

"Oh. No reason".

"I'm not explaining myself to you Jean. You owe me the explanation not the other way round and its certainly not an explanation over Camilla".

"No" she replied. "I know that. I'm not sure I know how to explain it Pete. We were such good friends and we got on so well that..."

"Why did you not come to see me in Hospital?" he asked, entirely unable to keep the anger from his voice, it in itself a low whisper. "Leave me just to assume that the wedding wasn't going to happen?"

"Pete, I..."

Freddie chose that moment to land on his Dad's knee having run up with neither of them noticing, happy to sit and cuddle up to his Dad interrupting their conversation. They were not words that he wanted Freddie to hear or indeed repeat to his mother for the moment.

"You're very close to him" she observed as the two huddled up to each other, Peter adjusting the boy's knitted cardigan as he went.

"He's my son Jean" he replied, patience starting to run thin, particularly with Freddie now on his knee as he tended to soak up conversation like a sponge and the last thing Peter wanted was for Camilla to hear something before he had the chance to speak to her.

"Oh I can see that. Quite uncanny" she commented, suppressing the need to straighten Fred's trouser leg that had become twisted as he landed on his father or perhaps just hold the boy's hand or give him a hug. That little boy could one day long ago have been hers and it was somewhat painful to see how his life had unfolded without her and just what she had blindly walked away from through immaturity and fear.

Freddie kept looking at her too. He had this look about him that Camilla had noticed even when he was a few months old as he stared at her from his high chair or if he objected to going to bed. It was that look that seared right through you as though you didn't exist. It was the one thing he inherited off her mother. Thankfully he had stopped doing it to his mother and father and now only reserved it for strangers and this woman was one of those.

It was abundantly clear too that Camilla was upset and he knew her well enough to know that however many times he denied it or told her the opposite, the way she had been conditioned as a child always meant that element of doubt would haunt her and threaten to take her over.

"I don't want you anywhere near my wife or him" Peter said, desperately trying to keep as much of a lid on this as possible. Nothing would stop his wife over thinking but at least he could try and help her as much as he could to see how emphatic he was that the past would not come between them in whatever shape or form it might be.

"You have become aggressive. I was right". There she was; provoking again.

"No I haven't. Come on mate" Peter said physically picking Freddie up so he could carry him as he stepped away. "Time to say goodbye to Daniel and Mary. It's home time".

"Peter! Wait a minute" she said, standing up to follow him. "Can you and I meet up one day soon? In private?"

He looked at her.

"Please" she asked.

"I'll think about it" he replied face like stone.

"I'm staying with grandma so let me know. She's just got a telephone. Its Poplar 390" he heard as he walked away letting Freddie down he could run on ahead to say goodbye to his friend.

Peter didn't look back.


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm sorry Sister" Chummy said quickly when Sister Evangelina had appeared from the other side of the closed bedside curtain, probably seeing the nurse wipe away that tear that had cascaded down her cheek unwarranted just seconds before too deep in thought to prevent the rising of emotion. The Sister had known something was concerning her and she intended to find out what and now seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"There is no need to be sorry Nurse" the Sister replied, somewhat concerned at first that there was some trivial ailment that was distracting the nurse from her patients. "Are you going to tell me what is bothering you?"

"I'm fighting fit and fine Sister" Chummy responded, patting down one of the pillows on the bed; possibly in a more heavy handed manner that she had originally intended and Sister Evangelina picked up on it immediately.

"I might wear a habit but I do still have human emotion buried underneath this scapular here somewhere and you are not fine Nurse" the Sister replied. "Come along. Clinic has quietened down so you can tell me". She saw the girl sigh and press her hands to the pillow again. Sister Evangelina, however, patted the bed and hopped up with a heave, intending for Chummy to join her. Chummy got the message soon enough and sat down too.

"Did you see the visitor I had the other day?" Chummy began, fiddling with one of the buttons on her cardigan.

"Blonde" the Sister started. "Far too much make up and heels you could break an ankle in?"

"Yes".

"I saw her; said a few words to her as well" the Sister confirmed, remembering cycling out of the bicycle shed and almost knocking the stranger over in her hesitance outside of the building as she had thought and thought twice about actually going to try and meet his wife.

"Really?"

"Really" the Sister replied folding her arms across herself. "She was dithering about outside Nonnatus on that afternoon she came to see you when I was going out to see Janet Williams and young Louise. I made it clear that the steps of Nonnatus were not a waiting room for all and sundry and if she had business she needed to be quick about it!"

"Peter nearly married her" Chummy announced. Once up on a time she might have been able to laugh at Sister Evangelina's encounter as she could just see it playing out in her head but not today unfortunately.

"Pardon?" Sister Evangelina asked, frowning.

"Before he went away to fight, he was engaged to her" Chummy continued, the words sticking in her throat.

"Oh" the Sister replied, curiosity evidenced in her voice, even though she did not intend at all to be nosy not expecting that answer.

"I don't know what to think but…." Chummy swallowed. "We're married. I know that and he told me enough about her that I thought I needed to know. He never kept it a secret so I should feel better about it all Sister. He said that he only asked her because he was going away and needed something to cling to but…" She could not even explain it to herself let alone someone else as the girl was not a revelation.

"Back in those days Nurse" Sister Evangelina started, memories of that time still all too fresh in her own mind, "us nurses would give all of those boys their once over medicals before they were shunted off to wherever they had to go. We used to help old Dr Campbell and Dr Bonner with it all as it was too much for two old duffers like them. Probably gave those Noakes boys a checking over at the time, but one thing I do remember is that they were nearly all _children_. Some of them I was sure I was old enough to be their mother and they were being sent off to Lord knows where to fight and most of them" she continued, gesturing towards the nurse, "had no idea that they would never see the East End again".

Chummy nodded. She had seen four of her brothers off too. Except, as officers, their Wars were behind a desk and they never had to face those things that she imagined Peter did.

"Think yourself lucky young lady that you weren't nursing when it all started. I can still see, feel, how naive they looked and how when we got back to Nonnatus we would just pray, pray and pray that their poor souls would be delivered back to their families as intact as Nature intended. It was all we could do. If you would have been there you would have understood exactly why he needed to think he had someone to come home to. Some permanence. Someone thinking of them".

"Yes I understand that Sister". Chummy did understand it, truthfully. Desperation could take you down paths that you might regret or paths you might just celebrate, but this person was so deeply insecure and here was a woman that she knew had shared his bed, and he had seen fit to think he could spend the rest of his life with her. Even thought that he could say those wedding vows that he had repeated to her, holding her gaze in front of all their friends, and keep them until the day he died.

"He married you. Do you really think he is suddenly going to up and leave?" the Sister asked, patient but not patient.

"Everything I have been supposed to love in my life Sister, my family, they are a million miles away and one is lucky if one gets a letter every six months. Peter and Freddie are all I have and one has to do everything one possibly can to keep hold of them".

"The family that you have, close, here is the most important" she replied. "Your husband, the little fellow and us, Nurse. I know I can get brusque around you Nurse and you know I do not stand for indecisiveness and we did have our moments and will probably have them for years to come, but if I am to be truthful these last few years, you have blossomed".

"Thank you Sister", Chummy replied meekly.

"Do you know what I thought?" the Sister asked seeing her companion shake her head.

"She struck me as a vain little madam from one meeting. I nearly took a tumble over her as she was staring into a compact, fiddling with her eyelashes. Now I see she seems to be causing trouble, intentional or otherwise and I have to say that does not sit with me".

"What do I do Sister?" Chummy pleaded, needing an answer as she had no idea herself.

"Love to me Nurse always seemed trivial, but my mind was turned to my vocation so early on in my life and always will be. I know I may say it a thousand times but I am truly glad that my only marriage is to the Lord". The Sister took a deep breath. "I would say trust him but that is an easy thing to say. I would say let him attend to matters himself, but she had clearly tried to encroach on your marriage and made it your personal business too. I would say I would turn a blind eye if you thought to tear her hair out, but that is not you nurse and as woman of the cloth I ought not to be condoning such behaviour in public or private. You are better than that and your marriage is better than that".

"No Sister. One will certainly not be taking that road". She would perhaps leave that to Peter's mother and frankly a physical altercation would only taint her in those eyes of the Lord; and indeed her husband or so she felt.

"I never thanked you Sister" Chummy said quietly, still deep in contemplation of the Sister's words.

"You have nothing to thank me for. It is what I would say to anyone in the same predicament" she replied, standing up straightening her habit and then the bed where she had crumpled the sheets from sitting down.

"I do have to Sister", she replied, solemnly. "For you pushing us together in the first place. Like you said if it was not for you we would still be stuck on 'hello'. I never thanked you".

"I was thoroughly fed up of him appearing on our doorstep every five minutes; standing there like he was going to burst something if you stepped within ten feet of him!"

Chummy smiled properly for the first time in their entire conversation.

"Nurse", the Sister began gently resting her hand on the girl's arm as she leant back over the bed. "Go home, listen to what he has to say and remember those vows you _and he_ made. Forsaking all others if I remember rightly?" Chummy felt the Sister's hand squeeze her forearm delicately.

"Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder" Chummy continued, remembering how petrified she was of making an almighty mess of it all. In fact, she and indeed Peter, had been word perfect and she had surprised herself that there was not one stutter between them and the words just flowed with such ease.

"Perhaps we should suggest no woman put asunder too?" the Sister replied in all seriousness, seeing the Nurse nod in firm agreement. "Now what do we have left to do?" she asked seeing the Nurse calmer it would seem.

"Three routine checks Sister and then a tidy up" Chummy responded, standing up and too straightening the bed sheet that had been disturbed underneath her as she sat.

"Dr Turner and I will manage the tidy up and you will go straight home once you have seen those three" Sister Evangelina emphasised. Despite it all, she did have a soft spot for them both, not that she would confess it this side of eternity.

"Are you sure Sister?" Chummy asked, not minding the tidy up at all. Everything nice and in order, the way she liked it.

"Absolutely", Sister Evangelina replied. "Now go and fetch...his handwriting!" she cursed, examining Dr Turner's script wondering whether he had employed a spider to assist in writing the clinic list today. "Carol Barrett?"

"Carolyn Barnett, Sister" Chummy smiled, about to open the curtain again, having delivered the youngster herself almost seven weeks ago now.

"He drives me to distraction!" Sister Evangelina whispered under her breath, Chummy only just about hearing as she walked away to the new mother and daughter, reminded of her wedding vows and knowing she needed to see him, talk to him and lose the anxiety that still sat around her shoulders.

She had to be strong. She had her future to think of.


	10. Chapter 10

The only time they were allowed to eat on their knees was 'Friday Night Fish and Chip Night' but today was Thursday. Peter, as promised, had taken Freddie and they had sped back finding Chummy had beaten them home and was setting out plates and cutlery on the kitchen table, still a little flushed from the bicycle ride home in the wind.

Thankfully the change though went completely over her son's head and he was still far too young to understand the rumblings of the past few days although both had, separately from each other and apart from Peter's unexpected encounter in the park, tried to keep any concerns from his shoulders. They ate in relative peace, even Freddie not piping up as some days he was just capable of talking non stop but then again he was otherwise far too engaged in his dinner. Chummy decided to break the ice as the quietude was becoming uncomfortable.

"So what did you do today then Freds?" she asked her son who was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the fire, his plate on the rug in front of him.

Peter felt his heart skip for a moment. What if he mentioned the yellow haired lady before he had the chance to tell her himself? He had never seen Camilla altogether angry before and he was not sure whether he might more likely see hurt than rage and that would certainly upset him more than a few crossed words or a slammed door. Hearing or seeing her cry was just about the worst experience in the world.

"We went to ve park an' saw Danny an' we went on ve swings an' ve slide an' ven we dun…" Freddie began only to be interrupted by his mother.

"Did" Chummy corrected.

"Ven we dun did ve weeds an' ve peas. Mummy 'elp us wiv ve overs?" he asked, a chip disappearing into his mouth.

"Of course Mamma will. At the weekend though" Chummy replied smiling at him quite as she was quite looking forward to some Spring gardening. She smiled at Peter too who was sitting by the window his plate balanced on the arm of the chair wondering still whether the encounter would be innocently revealed by his son. Chummy noticed Peter wasn't eating much and whilst he was listening to her and Freddie, he seemed desperately distracted in the same breath.

"Are you alright?" she mouthed, one eye on Freddie who was now rearranging his chips on his plate with his fingers. Chummy decided just this once to let it go; she was more worried about the frown that she saw on Peter than a son with greasy hands. At least those could be solved with a quick wash. She saw him nod to tell her he was fine, but she was by no way reassured as he demonstrably and consciously began to eat.

"Is he down?" Peter asked a couple of hours later, his wife having put Freddie to bed, dishes done and dried. He had armed himself with a glass of Whiskey and there was one waiting for Camilla too on the low coffee table in the sitting room. It might have been Spring but the night was quite chill so the electric heater was on, and the eruption of heat greeted her as she walked towards him.

"Like a light it seems" she replied, flopping down beside him on the settee the warmth engulfing her and she suppressed a yawn. "It must have been all ve swings an' ve slide" she laughed, imitating a half decent East End accent.

"You are getting better at that" Peter responded, smiling as out of instinct his arm went around her shoulders. She settled closer, eyes flickering shut as she rested her head. "Do you want the radio on or some music?" he asked quietly both feeling the day to start to ebb from their bones; the house quiet at least for now.

"Yes. Either" she replied. "But in a little bit though. Just give it half an hour or so to make sure he has _actually_ fallen asleep and wasn't playing one of his japes with me!"

"Alright".

She felt a kiss to her hairline and decided to bite the bullet before she could be distracted by radio shows or music or the basket of ironing in the kitchen or even Freddie waking up again.

"Peter?" she asked, taking up his other hand that was rested on his lap. There must have been something that he heard in her voice and knew the time was upon them.

"She wants us, me and her, to meet up to talk about things" he offered quickly; her feeling the tips of his fingers draw up and down the curve of her shoulder unsure whether he was trying to sooth her or amuse her. 'Things' was the best way he could find to describe it all without going into too much detail for now.

"Oh?" she squeaked.

"I told her I would be telling you and I wanted to speak to you before I made any kind of decision" Peter continued fingers still drifting up and over her arm. Underneath it all she was his best friend in the world as well as his wife and it was easy to be open with her. He had not thought twice about not saying anything to her.

"Do you want to?" she asked hesitantly, toying with the hem of his jumper; the closest thing she could find to engage nervous hands that were, despite herself and despite the bravado she had tried to convince herself of, starting to tremor.

Peter sighed. "Not particularly but I think I have to". He was still turning it over in his mind, deciding one minute to have it out and the next that it was better best forgotten and the door firmly closed. He was none to keen on what might be behind that door if he opened it wide and let the past drift through. There was no way on earth that he was ever going to be anything more than civil to her but they did have some good times back then and, having met at the age of 12, they knew each other inside out. Or at least they did. _Then_.

"Bring her here and do it in private" she said. It was the ultimate act of trust towards him that she could think of and indeed a test of her own self confidence that she could suggest it and allow the meeting to happen behind the closed doors of her - their - own home; their private domain and where they would see their family grow one day. Could she let the past invade? Particularly the past in the shape of a woman who had clearly meant so much to him?

"I was thinking of perhaps just up at the old recreation ground. It's quiet up there since they...". It suddenly registered what she had said. "What?"

Chummy sat up, now taking hold of the hand that had been wandering over her arm. "Bring her here and do it in private away from all and sundry".

"Camilla? Are you serious?" he asked sitting up too, not expecting that particular response. He hadn't thought of bringing her here; it was not really an option at all, but Peter could see that his wife was trying and he could only accept her entreaty. It was a matter it seemed, of needs must as far as he was concerned it could be attended to away from here but clearly she had other ideas.

"I think I better had be" Chummy replied. She breathed through her nose. Short and sharp as though she had finally made her mind up. "Its quiet here, private and nobody will know and you certainly will not be disturbed. I will take Fred up to your Ma and Dad for however long you need with her".

"You don't have to go and you certainly don't have to agree to her coming here" Peter replied earnestly. He had been quite prepared that if the conversation was to happen, it would not invade them. "I don't want you to think that somethings going on that shouldn't be".

"Oh you see my dear Peter, I do have to agree" she began. Chummy had rehearsed this bit over and over in her head on her walk home from clinic. "You are my husband. I said certain vows to you" she said, recalling Sister Evangelina's words to her not so long ago. "We said certain vows_ to each other_ and like you said once a while ago, we are going to be married to each other for a very long time. So..." she paused, feeling her heart beat. "You were - are - the first person in a long time who I can trust that has my best interests at heart. I have to trust you and I have to trust you will do the right thing by Freddie and me". She knew she had said the word 'trust' far too many times in two sentences but this was what it was all about after all.

"You know I will Camilla. I always intend to do the right thing for you and him". Peter shook his head slowly. "I am going listen to what she has to say, say anything I need to say in response and show her the door for good."

"I know". She leaned across and kissed him.

"And" Peter started. "I do appreciate how much it has taken for you to say she can come here".

"I need you to know I can see that and I can take confidence from it. That I can say to you that I am happy that you talk to her and I will be alright". For once it sounded as though she actually truly felt that way too even though her mind would be wandering whilst she was with his parents.

Peter smiled. "All you need to know is that I love you; and Freddie and I will do right by you. I do always try to..."

"I know you do" she responded, a subtle grin appearing briefly on her lips. That's the one thing she had noticed over and over again; that he would try his best for her and whilst he might not get it right all of the time she knew that she could be satisfied that he had her firmly in first place.

With his words still ringing in her ears, that Sunday, Chummy headed off to Reeves Road, Freddie in tow, to his parents house and left Peter at home to greet his visitor.


	11. Chapter 11

"Granma! Granma! Granma!" was all Irene Noakes heard and then the thundering of little feet as Freddie shot from the front door into the kitchen where she was standing about to start on the first of many cups of tea.

"'Ello lovely!" she smiled, picking him up and holding him close. "Where's your Mummy?"

"Wiv Grandad" he replied as she kissed him, Freddie having greeted in his grandfather in much the same manner before leaving them both on the front path, hearing Grandma singing in the kitchen and following the sound.

"What-ho Irene!" Chummy smiled, hearing the last of the conversation as she walked along the hallway, followed by her father-in-law who was closing the door behind them.

"Tea you two?" Irene asked.

"Yes please" Chummy replied, seeing her son being put down back onto the floor. "Freds? Why don't you go and show Grandad what you learned in Nursery on Tuesday?" The boy shot off again and with a bewildered look Grandad followed.

"Go on ven Petal, what is it?" Irene asked immediately, seeing how swiftly Chummy had managed to leave only her and Irene in the room. Chummy sighed as she was passed a cup of tea. "Come on ven. Sit down. You knows I 'ave big ears".

Chummy sat, hearing Freddie starting to sing the song he had learned. It had been accompanied by a dance that he had shown off to his parents many a time now and Chummy could see him in her mind's eye his arms and legs flying, words to the song sometimes in the same order as they had been the performance before.

"You know you told Peter that Jean was back?" she said, wrapping her hands around the mug she had been passed.

"So he told you?" Irene questioned, seeing her daughter in law confirm with a nod. She was pleased that her son had been entirely honest it seemed.

"Yes" she replied. "He's meeting her now. At home".

"Oh really?" Irene responded, feeling her hackles rise at the very thought of it.

"Peter thought he had best have it out with her and I suggested he did it at home". Chummy wondered for a while whether it was a good idea to confess her logic behind it.

"_You_ did?" Irene replied, taking a breath. "Well, I'll give ya good credit vor vat. I'd nevver allow 'er to put one foot in vis 'ouse". She had in fact half a mind to go round there herself but her son was a grown adult and the amount of black eyes he gave his brother as a kid, and vice versa she might add, she was sure he could stand up for himself. Whether his heart could though, that was a different matter.

"I trust him Renee" Chummy responded, breathing in the steam from the cup. "I have to trust him for my own sake and his. One's never been very good with confidence and I feel that this time..I have to be strong". It was the best she could do.

Irene nodded. "'E was always brought up to know vat if he evver, _evver_ lied to me or 'is Dad 'e would get belted so 'ard 'e would find his nose on ve back of 'is 'ead". Chummy smiled at the image. "An' ve same goes if 'e lies to you. I know you can believe what 'e says".

"He has to solve it himself Renee" Chummy replied. "No matter what I say or what I do, I can't turn back time or change what happened to him. He's got to do that himself and I have to support him in doing that and just be here". She was quite surprised how mature she sounded. "To let what I know very little about, be".

"You're a good girl Camilla. Billy an' me were so pleased 'e got you an' you 'ave to do what you feel is best. You are right to trust 'im vo. I'd do ve same meself if it were 'im in vere", Irene concluded as she gestured with her thumb towards the wall that divided the sitting room and kitchen.

"How long where they...?" Chummy didn't quite know how to phrase it. Friends? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Did his mother even know she had been his first?

"I fink it was goin' on for about a year before 'e went away", Irene replied. "She was a sweet little 'un, but ven she discovered vat boys used to do silly fings if she curled 'er 'air a certain way or wore red lipstick. I was pleased 'e 'ad 'is 'ead on straight to fink about marryin' her after vere ...encounters vo.."

Chummy raised an eyebrow.

"'E finks I don't know but I do" Irene noted leaning forward conspiratorially. "But reflectin' it turned out better vis way. _Vis_ weddin' was all my blessings rolled into one!"

She saw Chummy smile and Freddie appear at the doorway, quickly followed by his grandfather, the song and dance clearly over.

"An' 'ears ve biggest blessin' of vem all!" she said.

"I hope vats me you're referrin' to!" Billy smiled as he took up a seat, Freddie going over to his grandmother.

"You can wish!" she replied, helping the boy as he clambered up onto one of the kitchen chairs, his mother's conversation clearly having to be for another time now. "Now what does my Freddie want?" Irene asked, straightening his cardigan.

"Can I 'ave a cuppa tea?"

"Do you still take three sugars?" Peter asked, not seeing Jean smile knowing he had remembered from all that time ago just exactly how she took her tea; and coffee for that.

"Just one now" she replied, hovering by the kitchen table, feeling rude if she just sat down without being asked.

"We'll sit in the front" he started, handing the filled to the brim tea cup to her, only quickly catching her eye. "It gets freezing in here very fast".

Peter gestured to let her go first and they walked in silence to the sitting room, him immediately noticing the photograph of Freddie on his first day 'home' at Nonnatus, in Sister Evangelina's arms, sitting prominently in the middle of the mantelpiece. He hadn't seen that photograph in any other place that on her dressing table and he concluded fairly easily that she must have brought it down this morning. Peter smiled briefly as Jean sat, and with slight pride, wondering whether it was meant to be a subtle message or hint.

They sat on opposite sides of the room, but she had noticed him looking at the photograph.

"No more than Freddie?" Jean asked, the sitting room immaculate and not a trace of a toy to be seen.

_"Camilla stop tidying, the house is spotless..."_

"No" Peter replied although it slightly annoyed him that she had referred to the boy as though she knew him. He had been christened Frederick although it was only Sister Evangelina who called him that ever so occasionally.

"Camilla…." he continued, pausing, wondering whether he really wanted to tell her what happened. The last thing he wanted was her sympathy or to become embroiled in a conversation over Freddie. "She nearly died having him so we've decided to wait a while". It was partly true. They had perhaps been a little more careful but if someone somewhere decided that Freddie would be a big brother, they were both in such a sufficient place, now three and a half years on that both felt that they could cope with the 'what if' and the inevitable anxiety.

"Oh" was all she could must in return. "How old is he?"

"Four in October" Peter replied, thinking next it will be school uniforms and packed lunches and saying goodbye to him looking like a proper young chap soon enough. At least he had had, correction, was having his days at nursery and the wrench might not be so bad if only for Freddie alone.

"He looks older".

"He's got Camilla's height that's why" Peter responded. They had noticed that bit when he towered over his friends at nursery and little hands were reaching places that no three and a half year old should go. The cooker ring sprang to mind immediately.

"Has she always been a midwife?" Jean asked, genuinely curious.

"No. A nurse first" He had no intention of telling her that she nursed wounded soldiers still suffering from their necrotic wounds years after the war. It was far too close to home.

"How long have you been married?"

"Nearly five years" he replied, turning the mug in his hands, around and around. He didn't feel nervous of this; just wanted it to end.

Peter could see though that he clearly needed to try and make other conversation as this was just heading into a question and answer session and the point of this meeting was not to discuss the here and now but to address a rather significant question in the past.

"Have you seen anyone else from the old days whilst you've been up here?" he asked, hoping he could push to where they needed to go and what he had build up to discussing.

"I saw Bobby Harris at the weekend" Jean responded, smiling, remembering just the entirely random meeting when she had gone to pick up the joint from the local butchers for Sunday dinner with Grandma and he had been there with his two eldest boys.

Peter nodded. "I didn't realise he was back until Camilla mentioned delivering his youngest. Was it Cornwall he ended up after school?"

"Devon" she replied, feeling them slide into the old familiarity of conversation. It was not Peter's intention though. "You know how friendly he was with my brother. They wrote for a while".

"How is Rich?" Peter asked. It must have been a good five years, actually probably more that that, since he had heard any news of her older brother. It was certainly before he had even set eyes on Camilla he was sure of that.

"He's fine" Jean replied. "Down in Portsmouth now, but he's talking of going off to Canada. Better job prospects he says. Mum's furious but he'll just up and leave whatever she thinks or feels."

How ironic, Peter thought quietly. It seems to run into the family; this disappearing act. Walking away and not having one thought as to the consequences of your decision to other people.

"So why did _you_ walk away then Jean?" he asked, looking her directly in the eye waiting for that answer that had been wanting, no _needing_, to hear for years.


	12. Chapter 12

Jean frowned at him immediately; perhaps not thinking he was going to be quite that direct. Tears had been cried years ago as despite it all, she had loved him or at least loved him as far as a teenager knew what that was. She swallowed apprehensively.

"When your Mum told me what had happened to you; I panicked" she said truthfully, harking back to that visit in the middle of the afternoon, seeing Irene Noakes standing at the front door only days after the funeral of one son, reporting the other was gravely ill with tears streaming down her face. Jean herself remembered holding the telegraph message as she stood in the parlour with shaking hands and an erratic heart. "I was frightened of seeing you in pain, terrified of not being able to do anything to help you".

"Why didn't you tell me?" Peter asked. "You had plenty of chances to come and see me. I thought you ditched me because you thought you'd have to care for me. You _allowed_ me to think that you wouldn't care for me if I needed it".

He saw her clasp her hands together on her lap. "I was eighteen years old Pete and I had no idea how I could care for you…." It was the best she could put it as unfortunately, what had thought had been the musings of a wild, injured imagination, he had actually hit the nail on the head. "Or how we would manage if….."

"So you did think it was because I couldn't be a good husband to you? That I couldn't provide for you?" Anger that had bubbled below the surface for years was starting to take over.

"I'm sorry" she pleaded. "I didn't know what the future was going to be and I was a child who didn't have any idea and I wasn't thinking properly. We were _both_ children".

"I wasn't Jean. Not after that" he replied through gritted teeth. "I had no choice but to grow up the moment I was pulled into the back of that truck on the way to Dover". He remembered it far too well, the sensation of being hauled by the shoulders of his uniform, thumping down onto a bench; the truck jam packed with most of his friends and acquaintances from a childhood spend in Bow. Dragging his own brother up after him – his biggest regret - he had seen his mother, father and Jean; the only people he could focus on in the sea of waving hands and handkerchiefs pressed to the mouths of mothers, wives, aunts and sisters. Dazed and rocking from side to side and up and down as the truck bounced over the cobbles and potholes, he felt so alone yet still thought it was the right decision. Someone to come home to, that was it. If he made it, that was. Fear and panic made you do ill-advised things sometimes but that was only something he realised years later.

"I don't think I was capable of being your wife Pete" she replied, the shivering sensation still winding its way up Peter's spine at the memory of that day. "Honestly. I was not capable of being a nurse….."

"I didn't need a nurse. I needed a wife or at least a fiancée that I thought cared. That would have got me through". How ironic a nurse had appeared in his life all these years later. He could have done with Camilla back then.

"I did care. I still do care about.." Jean appealed to him, but saw him shake his head vigorously before she had even finished the sentence.

"It's too late" he responded blankly, not wanting to look at her, the realisation that he had been right about himself and right about her long ago was quite the thing to try to understand.

"Peter I am genuinely sorry" she pleaded, using his full name for the first time. "I've had a lot of time to think about what might have been and I know I can't make amends and I can't force you to believe that but I am sorry. So very sorry. But that's the bare bones of it and if you can't accept that…" She tailed off, shrugging her shoulders, utterly lost for anything more to say.

He looked up and held her gaze for the first time. "Peter we were friends for a long time. Can we remember those days as the best days? When we were actually children who didn't have a worry in the world?"

He signed loudly. "If we are talking home truths, I should never have asked you to marry me". He knew at the time he was terrified but he needed those memories; needed to know someone would be thinking of him. Peter had no idea that Sister Evangelina had said the same thing fundamentally to his wife just a few days before.

"Well if we are being straight with each other and as much as it stings…." she replied, "over these years I've though about it and...its what I think too now. Are you happy with her?"

"Yes" he replied emphatically. "Entirely and completely".

"I'm glad".

"Are you?" The question slipped out and Jean picked up the slight suspicion in his voice.

"Yes I am" she replied, genuinely happy that he was happy if the past had not been so tinged with regret. "I wasn't expecting you to marry someone like her but…"

"Like her?" he responded, shifting his head to one side, squinting at her wondering what on earth she was about to say and whether it was in fact time to show her the door once and for all if she was going to start on Camilla. He was not so stupid to have heard comments or seen the looks that they would get walking along in those early days.

_"I can see how beautiful you are, how caring, how thoughtful your soul is Camilla. Ignore it…."_

"Well she's not…" she replied, flustered. "She's..."

"Go on?"

"I just the expected person you chose to be your wife to be different…" She knew it sounded terrible, but the girl he had chosen was hardly like her or really any of the girls she knew; not dainty or with a cinched in waist, or wearing lashings of make-up or the latest fashions. Maybe what she knew of him was not quite right at all.

"She _is_ different. _Unique_" Peter replied, wanting to be effusive but reigning himself in. It was always the way when he talked about her. "She's beautiful inside and out. That's why I married her and if you are troubled by what you see in someone's appearance Jean when you cannot see the person underneath..."

Jean nodded, bowing her head. "I don't know her" she replied, trying to justify herself.

"No, I know you don't" he responded bluntly as twenty seconds or more of difficult silence followed.

"What about you?" Peter asked, mildly curious whether she had someone in her life too since.

"I have my job. That lady that I went to work for in Newcastle is getting on a bit so she's asked that I take over the shop, do the accounts and all of that" she replied. To be truthful she was quite excited about it all as the shop was slowly becoming her domain and she liked the independence it brought her.

"You were always better at maths" Peter commented casually.

"Your maths homework in exchange for my English grammar" she recalled remembering those times they would sit at the kitchen table – in either house – and do each other's homework on a scrappy piece of paper so the other could copy it out.

"I don't know how we got away with it all those years" he smiled, shaking his head at the memory, drifting back to those days of being in and out of the two terraced houses, home made lemonade on tap in her Mum's house and his Mum with her endless supply of biscuits. "Nobody ever found out".

Jean smiled too and he could see regret. "I had better be going" she announced suddenly, standing up going towards the open sitting room door feeling in the talk of those times that had been good, neither needed to step back and she was firmly outstaying her welcome.

"Jean" he started following her. "I hope…I hope one day…." He was truly struggling but knew that he had a decision to make one way or another.

"Me too" she smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. She leant across and gave him a light kiss on the cheek before moving away. "Look, Pete" she began, turning back to him. "I never said goodbye to you then, not properly and I am going to say it now. But not a final, _final_ goodbye?"

Peter shook his head. It was time to close the door on this. "No this is a final _final_ goodbye". He saw her frown, clearly thinking there was an inkling there of future meetings, telephone calls or letters. "Do you know something?" Jean shook her head as he carried on.

"It was Camilla's suggestion you came here and I know how much it took her to even suggest it to me. So no. I don't ever want her to have to make that kind of decision again. So it is goodbye".

"I am sorry" she said, catching hold of the little fingers of his hand; grounding herself like all of those old times when all she craved was one of his hugs.

"I know you are" he replied, thinking it quite genuine, but the love that he felt for Camilla, he now realised, far outweighed the hurt that had haunted him these last few years about the maybe of another marriage and what she did to him.

He closed the door behind her and immediately turned for the telephone, hearing a little voice who had clearly got to the telephone before any adult had the chance to run to it before him.

_"Hello Freds, can you get Mummy for Daddy please?"_


	13. Chapter 13

Peter sat on the settee, mind a million miles away, hearing Camilla through the floor upstairs persuading Freddie that after the excitement of Grandma he really and truly needed a nap.

To be truthful the boy did look tired, having raced around the garden with Granddad (or as much as Granddad could race with a bad leg) and catching (or trying to catch) a beach ball that they found in the shed with Mummy. The amount of times he had missed, or rather that his mother had been a touch generous with the throw, and been bonked on the head just made him burst into fits of giggles and for Chummy particularly made her forget what might be going on at home. She had been quite surprised, but relieved, to receive his telephone call after such a short period of time; slightly anxious though that it had ended in some almighty row with the neighbours thinking it was them screeching at each other and curtains would be twitching.

He'd kissed her and Freddie as soon as they stepped over the threshold and Chummy was entirely unsure whether she ought to be reading anything into that or not.

Now having succeeded with Freddie, now snuggled under a blanket in their bed as it was the only way she was going to get him to have a sleep, she was sitting by Peter and he barely noticed until she took up his hand.

"Sorry Camilla" he said suddenly realising she was there; half apologising for not paying attention and the other half for the recent events.

"You have nothing to be sorry for" she said promptly. "What did she say?" Chummy asked, dying for the question to be answered.

"That _she_ was sorry for what happened" Peter replied. "No crossed words as such, just sorry". It was a slight elaboration as there had been the odd moment when certainly he felt that he could easily start to lose his temper. It also slightly disconcerted him to that they were sliding into the old comfortableness with the stories of days gone by and he had to run as far away as possible from that.

"Do you believe her?" It was perhaps the most important question of all.

He nodded. "I have to" he replied, looking up at her, holding her gaze. "Do you know I was right all these years? She did it because she thought she would have to be my nurse. Every time I've kicked myself, told myself not to be so stupid; that she wouldn't be like that. That I thought I knew her too well".

"You did know her after all it seems", Chummy considered. "Knew enough even though you might not have wanted to believe it. That you thought better of her?"

"That's true. Does Mum know she's been?" he asked, thinking for a second.

"Yes" Chummy replied, although apart from her confession, Irene had not actually said another word. Probably for fear of saying something quite offensive towards her once long ago almost daughter in law. Either that or she was saving it up for her son.

"She's going to be having words with me!" Peter responded, voice rising in anticipation at the third degree he would probably get tomorrow when he went on his usual visit before shift and he knew that his mother could bend his ear for hours on end if she had to.

"Well like I said long ago, what ever anyone else says, I will be here looking after you even when you are a decrepit old codger and…"

"I know you will" he smiled, holding her hand just that little bit tighter as he interrupted her.

"_And_" she repeated, "we have so much to look forward to Peter". Now that was odd, coming from Chummy's mouth. Usually it was the other way around and she was the negative thinker. "Let's forget if we can? If you can?"

"I am happy she said sorry. Its just waiting all this time and digesting the fact I was right!" Peter replied, thoroughly taking on board her request although it would certainly not be immediate as he shook his head in wonderment.

"At least you had that apology" she noted as he nodded. There were plenty of times Chummy felt she was owed an apology, mostly from her family at large for those awkward, depressing, terrifying 'matches' and for her mother's apparent contempt at her existence. Mind you, the latter one she would never receive now. "So are you likely to be seeing her again?" she asked, hoping deep down the answer would be 'no'.

"No. That was it. She wanted to keep in touch, but no she won't be here again. No letters, nothing". It was not as though he might not like her to be in touch as a friend; it was more the effect that it would have on his wife to have this person lurking around the background, sending him letters. Even though she should never doubt him, practice and theory were entirely different topics.

Chummy almost breathed a sign of relief though. As much as she knew she was loved, as much as he knew how seriously he took their wedding vows, here was a face from the past that she wished she had never seen. Still though, how pleasing it was that she had faced up to her situation and to fall down on the side of strength instead of tripping over herself to avoid the confrontation that would follow the appearance of this person briefly into her life. She could learn lessons from that as she did survive unscathed after all and things do, every so often, feel far worse in anticipation than event.

Maybe when the next time that adversity should fall at their door, however fleeting it might be, she need not seek advice from others but might know instinctively the decision to make and the avenue to follow. Just maybe.

FIN


End file.
